


Forgotten

by Dancing_Burnt_Toast



Category: A Very Potter Musical, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Relationships, Background Slash, Canon Gay Relationship, Het and Slash, Male Slash, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Past Relationship(s), Revenge, Slash, Spoilers, Suggestive Themes, team starkid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Burnt_Toast/pseuds/Dancing_Burnt_Toast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellatrix was sure that Lord Voldemort would return. But when her beliefs are confirmed, she learns some very unconcerting information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This takes place in the Very Potter Musical-verse, not the canon Potter-verse. It takes place shortly after the events of the first musical.
> 
> Warnings: T for suggestive content. Also a few minor spoilers for A Very Potter Sequel

 

    Appearances aren't everything. Obviously it's quite easy to fool a couple members of a ginger, blood-traitor family, a mudblood girl, and two stupid twelve-year-old boys; especially when the mortally injured Severus Snape has taken all their attention. Bellatrix Lestrange lay there quiet, motionless, barely breathing. She almost broke into a grin when Snape informed the children of the Dark Lord's last horcrux, the only one capable of destroying him.

Yes, she still had to resist a chuckle. _Her Lord was quite cunning._ She remained in her apparently dead state until Potter finally left in an anguished state with his friends attempting to follow him. She got up from the ground, carefully making sure that none of the 'Chosen One's' friends still remained in the area. She let out a happy shriek.

The Potter boy was foolish enough to sacrifice himself for his friends and once the resistance's 'hero' was gone, it would be a matter of moments until the last Hogwarts students gave up hope and finally surrendered. Once that finally happened, she could return to her master as they ruled the entire wizarding world, eventually the entire world, with emphasis on ridding the world of disgusting Mudbloods, enslaving all Muggles  and  frequent engaging in kinky sex.

Although she had survived the killing curse, it had weakened her considerably. She quickly slipped to a secluded corner of the grounds, lest she be successfully killed before the Deatheaters succeeded in taking Hogwarts.

 

She waited quietly, two hours at the very least, until her Lord finally made his second announcement.

_"Harry Potter is dead. He died running away, trying to save himself..."_

The boy was far too stupid, or as the Ministry liked to say: 'selfless', to try something like that.

But she smiled at the thought of his pathetic followers' spirits finally being broken by the thought of him 'abandoning' them. She slowly made her way back to the center of the battle that would obviously be the place of the Deatheater's celebration. She was shocked at first to hear the sound of cheering, but not the cheers of the conquering Deatheaters, but the cheers of the students and teachers. Carefully making her way closer and being sure she wasn't seen she examined the crowd.

She quickly spotted none other than a triumphant _Harry Potter. Alive._

She scanned the scene in horror and abruptly saw a still body. It looked crumpled and broken; the folds of its cloak covered a majority of its form. Closer inspection revealed it to her as being _the Dark Lord himself._ She screamed and quickly apparated away from the awful place.

...

She quickly went into hiding, as did all the other surviving Deatheaters. The most popular meeting spots still remained the pubs and decrepit looking shops of Knockturn Alley. Meetings among the survivors were few and incredibly dangerous due to the Wizard Cops constant capturing of Deatheaters. Almost half of the known surviving Deatheaters had been imprisoned in the months after Voldemort's defeat. A majority of the remainder used cloaking charms at almost all times.

But Bellatrix Lestrange had avoided capture and was still the Dark Lord's most loyal follower. She still had the strong belief that he had somehow survived. He had been 'destroyed' but had returned. How would this be any different? The Dark Mark on her arm still seemed to prickle, waiting, quietly anticipating when he finally returned once more, more powerful than ever.

The Deatheaters attempts at bringing the Dark Lord back to his glory were all unsuccessful, the most recent one being Lucius Malfoy's and several other Deatheaters going back in time to kill Potter in his first year at Hogwarts. They still hadn't returned.

Many of the Deatheaters had already went into hiding; not fighting for the Deatheaters, just hiding to keep themselves from being sent to Azkaban.

She thought they were fools. The Dark Lord _would_   return; and when he did, his most loyal followers would be rewarded. She still hadn't given up hope, constantly scanning the faces in crowds in attempt to find her Lord. They were fruitless, but she would find him. She would in time.

...

_There he was!_ She had finally spotted him walking in Diagon Alley. She was filled with immediate euphoria but was careful not to approach him, it would be foolish to reveal the Dark Lord's identity and risk his safety in front of so many people. She still needed the protection of the cloaking charm she had placed on herself as well. She watched him unseen, and quickly realized he wasn't alone.

The servant that had once been his host was there. _What was his name? Quinnell? No. Quil?_ She managed picked up a few words of what he was saying to him.

"...Quirrell..." 

Yes, that was his name.

He had once been a teacher of, the horror of it all, _Muggle Studies._ The Deatheaters had objected, the Dark Lord hadn't been fond of it either, but at least he was just going to be sent to Azkaban anyway. No harm would be done. Quirrell had obviously been though harmless after the Dark Lord's defeat and had been released. Unfortunately, the pair slipped back into the crowd in such a way in was impossible for Bellatrix to follow them.

She cursed to herself and searched the crowds even more carefully the few days after.

...

She managed to catch a few glimpses of them over the next few weeks. The cloaking charms kept her safely obstructed from the views of the other wizards and witches. Her attempts to somehow follow them to a slightly secluded place had proved unsuccessful so far. She had learned a few things from her observations though. Voldemort and the servant spent a surprising amount of time with each other. Despite the peon's previous association with Muggles, his intelligence could prove quite useful. The Dark Lord also seemed to be oddly happy despite his defeat. Bellatrix had gleefully accepted it as her Lord's anticipation of rising again. He would surely appreciate her loyalty.     

She followed them quietly past all of the shops; they seemed to be exiting from Diagon Alley. Bellatrix followed them, quietly hoping they wouldn't apparate. Following them would be impossible then.

They opened the brick wall that enclosed the marketplace.

She quickly exited the wall before it closed once more. She grinned, unseen. No one seemed to be here except her Lord and the Quirrell man, all that would be necessary would be throwing off her cloaking enchantment and approaching them. Oh, how the Dark Lord would greet her with open arms! She carefully scanned the area to ensure that there were no onlookers and her eyes met the pair once again. They were conversing; about what she couldn't tell from this distance. She suddenly realized that they seemed to be looking at each other quite intently, in a way that her Lord had never looked at her, not even when she was explaining a particularly brilliant scheme. She stopped chanting the incantation that would remove the cloaking charm and stared at them with interest.

The Quirrell person said something; Voldemort was apparently pleased by that and smiled. They each took a step closer towards each other.

She continued to watch them, confused of what on earth they could be doing.

They were quite close now and suddenly, with seemingly no prompting, they kissed. _They were kissing._ The great and all powerful Dark Lord and the weak, Muggle-loving pawn were _kissing._ Bellatrix stared in horrified shock and raised her wand in preparation to cast a spell.

After what seemed like hours, they stopped.

She waited for her Lord to scream at the pawn, for his audacity to even touch the Dark Lord.

He didn't. He looked at the pawn again, in an almost sheepish manner, but he did not seem displeased in the slightest. He seemed almost... happy. _The Dark Lord was happy that the peon had kissed him?!_

She quickly pondered.

After the pawn's imprisonment her Lord had seemed almost sad. Much of the time, the things that usually pleased him much he ignored or simply participated joylessly. One of the Carrows had once brought in several Muggles they had captured and instead of joining the other Deatheaters in torturing them, he stated he 'wasn't up to it' and continued to stare into space with a melancholy expression. He and Bellatrix seem had seemed distant. Not even carnal pleasure had seemed to make him happy. He had seemed willing enough the day they had both finally murdered the Minister, but then he had accidentally shouted Quirrell's name and _\- wait. The Dark Lord had 'missed' Quirrell._   All the depression all because he had... felt something for the pitiful ex-professor. And now, he didn't even seem to _want_ to reunite with his Deatheaters and return to glory.

 _Then what had she been?!  All the years of servitude, following her Lord with loyalty that could not matched by even the most dependable Deatheater, all those nights spent making love and afterwards his silent assurance that she was indeed his 'favorite' Deatheater. HAD THAT MEANT NOTHING?!_ He had abandoned her and all of his Deatheaters, simply because some filthy blood-traitor had caught his interest!

She felt sick. Her arm was still raised; she could cast a killing curse in an instant. Although her Lord was a (she shuddered at the thought) half-blood, he had sworn that he loathed that 'unpleasant' piece of his ancestry. _Lies!_ She thought. _Everything had been that._

She noticed that her arm was still raised and was trembling. She then noticed that the pair was still standing there; even after she had silently had had a mental breakdown.

The Quirrell man was still there.

She could have killed him. She knew the spell. She could have watched his body crumple to the ground like a dead leaf. Or even better, the Cruciatus curse. She could watch his body writhe in agony like a worm being put onto a hook until he begged for death .

But Voldemort was there, the _completely delusional_   'Dark Lord.' He was still much more strong than she.

She still released a grin, a wonderfully twisted grin.

She was right, the Deatheaters _would_   rise again.

Only this time Voldemort would not be their leader.

And this time, Harry Potter and his friends would not be their only enemies.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I DO know that cloaking charms don't make you entirely invisible, but you probably wouldn't notice in a crowd.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading :)  
> I'd really like it if you could perhaps leave a kudos, comment or even bookmark if you liked it that much
> 
> Contructive criticism is VERY appreciated.


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